


No More Heroes Left

by orphan_account



Category: Colditz (1972)
Genre: Colditz AU, Courage, Doctors & Physicians, Gen, Heroes, Hospitals, Nurses, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickness, Soldiers, Trauma, War, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohn is reluctantly drawn into a friendship with a young soldier he meets in a Dresden Hospital after being wounded at Stalingrad. A friendship that might heal some of his scars but challenge everything he knows about courage and bravery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt to write a sickfic by Judopixie.

He opened his eyes to stark whiteness all around him from the dull, whitewashed walls to the starched uniforms of the nurses. The smell of disinfectant and old bandages wafted to his nose. The first sensation he felt was of unbearable pain. He screamed and cried out. It almost felt like the bayonet was still inside him and someone was twisting it like a screw tighter and tighter around his stomach. He shivered and his hands felt cold and he puked all over the starched bed sheets and on the disinfected floor.    
  
The nurse came over to him and cleaned him up, changed his trousers which were covered in yellowed vomit, ignored his look of embarrassment and wiped his forehead while a young soldier with a sling over his arm walking by, sniggered. Horst felt humiliated, weak and exhausted and his body ached with pain all over. He thought of the sniggering soldier and attempted to bear the pain in silence.  
  
Sometimes an occasional muffled scream would escape from his lips and an occasional tear would fall despite his best efforts. He tried to make himself stare at the clock but that only made it feel like time was dragging its feet reluctantly forward. He still felt nauseous and even a sip of water or a bite of food made him retch and puke out the contents of his stomach except that there was nothing to throw up. His stomach was empty, what was left of it anyway.   
  
The nurse who had cleaned him up had told him when he had asked, that the doctors had to remove half his stomach to save his life. He lifted up the hospital garment to reveal a jagged scar that throbbed at the slightest touch. His mind was teeming with questions that he wanted to ask but just couldn't pluck up the courage to hear the answers. He had no idea what became of his friends or who brought him back to their camp from where he was flown back to Germany. He thought it would probably have been the stolid, dependable Hans. He wondered whether Hans was even alive.  
   
He swallowed a lump in his throat. Not many from the Fallschirmjäger Brigade would have survived, he knew that. Even when he was fighting, he could see many had been killed in the besieged, burnt-down city. It was a suicide mission, they knew that before going in. They went ahead with it anyway.  
  
A soldier's duty, he had been taught, was not to question his superiors, it was to obey orders and show bravery even when the odds were stacked against him. The courage of a German soldier was equal to ten times that of any enemy, so went his instructor's speech. That speech was so pumped and drilled into his veins that he found  himself consulting it whenever he had to make any decision, even a personal one.    
  
A soldier who had to face life and death everyday was better off not knowing. He fixed his eyes on the clock again. Only half an hour had passed since he had last looked.   
  
'It gets better, Herr.' A young voice spoke. Horst realised after an awkward silence that it was addressing him. You learn that the pain isn't the worse thing in the world.'  Horst looked towards the speaker to find a tall, thin badly burnt and bandaged face looking at him. 

  
'Everybody has the same reaction,' he said watching Horst's eyes, 'Except, my dear Liesel.'

  
'I've seen too many horrors on the field to be surprised.' Horst said moving his gaze away. He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know how a boy of nineteen or twenty and he looked no older than that, had gotten his face completely burnt and ruined.   
  
'Stalingrad.' He said in answer to Mohn's unasked question, 'They tell me I was one of the lucky ones to be injured so early on and brought back to Dresden. We pushed the Russians back and in the morning they started retaliating and one of the shells fell too near me.  It wasn't too bad. Most of my unit survived that offensive, to be killed later on in what I can only term, bitter irony. I was just very unlucky as I thought at that time. When the doctors would change and remove the bandages I was glad that I was out of the war for the time being and so have been enduring my pain cheerfully.'  
  
Mohn retched and threw up again, this time, the nurse had kindly left a bucket near his bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

'Did you have a good night, Herr?' the boy asked cheerfully in the morning. 

  
Mohn turned his blank, haggard face towards the cheerful voice in annoyance. His dark circles had deepened, yet he dared not close his eyes to go to sleep. When he was awake he was master of his senses and could choose not to dwell on how their unit had been cut off from food supplies, how he had finally given the order to attack, how he had seen his men fall one by one till only a handful were left, how he had seen Russians take the soldiers that they had captured and line them against a wall and shoot them, how they had shot Russians that they had captured the same way. At least when his eyes were open, Hans, Fritz and the others could not come, he would never lay his eyes on them. In his dreams, he could see them clearly at Stalingrad amid the ruins. It was the ruined city that haunted his dreams.     
  
'The breakfast is really splendid today. I think the staff have outdone themselves. A proper hearty breakfast as our NCO used to call it. Do you know, I knew an Oberst once who would refuse to go into battle until he had eaten a full breakfast and had his beer? Our victories depended on how fast the cook made the food and whether the cook was in a good mood or not.'   He laughed weakly.   
  
The nurse came with a bowl of thick, gray porridge.   
  
'I don't feel like having any food.' Horst pushed the tray aside.  
  
'You must eat. You haven't eaten a thing since you came. You need your energy if you want to get better.' The nurse patiently explained to him as if she was talking to a young child.  
He reluctantly took a little bite of the mushy porridge which tasted horrible and gagged instantly.  
The nurse sat beside him, holding the bucket and rubbing his back, 'You have to force yourself to eat. I know you don't feel like it but you must. It doesn't matter if you feel like throwing up.'  
  
'Maybe later.'  
  
She left the bowl at the table and went to a patient whose legs had been amputated and who kept calling "Maria, Maria" and sobbing into his pillow.  Horst pushed the bowl away. He felt faint and realised that he hadn't eaten properly in a couple of days. Still the sight of food made him sick.   
  
'If you don't eat, at least I hope you drink Herr. Our Oberst, the same one, once said, never trust a soldier who doesn't drink, he's obviously plotting something against his Generals.'  
  
'Are you always this annoying, Soldier?' Horst commented in irritation. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.    
  
'Werner, Werner Rilke. Pleased to meet you.'

Horst turned his face away to stare at the ceiling.   
  
'Are you always such pleasant company, Hauptmann?  
  
'Major Mohn.'  
  
'Yes, Major, sir.'   
  
Horst tried to sit up in bed and felt faint. Hardly any food or liquid had passed his mouth in the last 72 hours and he was beginning to feel the effects. His lips were parched, his head was hurting, his stomach kept throbbing and he hadn't passed any bowel movement since he came to the hospital. Most importantly he was utterly exhausted. He lay down again and rested his warm forehead against the pillow but got no relief. He felt light headed and dizzy. This time he didn't try to fight it. He closed his eyes, thinking he was going to die and what a fortunate thing that would be for him since he might never be able to fight.   
  
The nurse rushed to his bedside but Werner signalled her to leave him. Horst looked so peaceful as he slept properly for the first time in nearly a week. It was a deep, dreamless sleep. The nightmares would come when he woke up. Horst had yet to learn that the nightmares would never leave him alone for as long as he lived.


	3. Chapter 3

Horst woke up to find the same whitewashed walls around him. But this time he felt slightly better. His appetite had improved and his headache had disappeared. He still felt weak and a bit dizzy. He drank some water and looked at the gray mass that the cold porridge had turned into. 

'I wouldn't touch it if I were you.' Werner called from his bed where he was reading a cheap paperback romantic novel. His face had fewer bandages than before.

'Ask for proper food. We got better stuff than this sorry grub when we were marching but then Bertie was always very good at that sort of thing. He had keen senses for finding food, cigarettes, anything that was in short supply. Do you know, once when we were in our quarters in Hamburg, we had ersatz potato stew, that's basically turnips in a dish of bland watery liquid but then Bertie got hold of some roasted beans somehow and we had a jolly good supper that day. Unfortunately, the very next morning we got our marching orders to Poland and had to set off at once. As we were marching along, our company let rip large ones at regular intervals. It really was quite musical.'  
  
Horst laughed despite himself. He was beginning to like this young man with a sense of humour. The nurse brought a soup of some kind and a little bit of bread. He didn't ask what the soup was made from. He dipped the bread in the soup to moisten it before putting it in his mouth. And how delicious those morsels tasted. He had forgotten what proper food tasted like, well, it was still ersatz something or other he was sure but it was miles better than what they were living on in Stalingrad.   
  
'Careful, don't eat too much, too soon or you'll throw it all up.' The nurse warned. Horst didn't care. He ate all the bread and then drank the soup in a few gulps. His stomach hurt as the food went down but he felt his strength returning.   
  
'Have some beer too, Major. It'll do you a world of good.' 

  
'He can't have any beer and you mustn't encourage him to do so.' The nurse told Rilke as she straightened the bed sheets on an empty bed on their ward. One of the soldiers had died a few hours ago and another soldier would be shifted to this ward.   
  
'No drink at all? Pity.' Werner had brought a glass of beer from the canteen for himself and he placed it on his table as he flipped through the pages of the novel.  
  
Horst hoped he might be able to get on his feet in a couple of weeks and return to active duty. He was a soldier and that was all he had ever learnt to be. He didn't want to think of the possibilities of him not being one anymore. He just had to push his body hard enough. He had always excelled at physical training. This would be like that. Horst wanted to get back into action soon. Despite everything, he missed being back on the field and in charge of the troops. That was the only thing he was good at.   
As he was thinking these thoughts, Horst suddenly retched and puked everything he had eaten in the bucket near his bed while the nurse looked at him disapprovingly. Werner, threw back his head and laughed. In the glinting evening light from the window, his burnt face carried glimpses of having been handsome once.


	4. Chapter 4

 'Have I shown you pictures of my fiancée?' Werner asked Horst the next day. Horst was left awkwardly wondering what to say.

'He didn't want to share any details from his life. Not that there was anything much in the way of fiancées in his life. Anna was a friend. Well it was complicated between him and Anna, or maybe not. He didn't really know what they were to each other. Just someone he had been close to before the war? Did meeting her a couple of times count as close? Horst ignored these thoughts in his mind and shook his head. Did he really want to know about Rilke's family history when he probably would never meet him again after a few weeks in this hospital?

He whipped up a picture from his wallet as if he had had it prepared well in advance to show to people.

'That's my Liesel.' He said, 'Isn't she pretty? You cannot see it from this picture but she has beautiful blond hair and blue eyes and porcelain skin. She's the most beautiful, wonderful thing I ever set eyes on. Wouldn't you agree?'

Horst nodded in agreement. She really was very pretty he could see.

'You are very lucky, Rilke. She is as you say.' Horst handed the photograph to Werner and lay in bed. The nurse was making him drink several glasses of water every day and because of the fact that his body was still weak and he still had trouble getting out of bed, he would often need a bedpan or would wet the sheets which caused him terrible embarrassment whenever the nurse would have to come to clean him up. Thankfully there were always different nurses on different shifts which lessened his embarrassment. Each day he tried to sit up and do some small exercises to get his body to recover faster, which is why Rilke's interruptions were a nuisance.  

Still he had been one of the lucky ones to only have lost half his stomach. The new soldier that had arrived had been shot in the eye, the bullet had narrowly missed his brain. The other soldier in their ward had had to have an amputation of both his legs as he had developed severe gangrene, he still wouldn't stop calling 'Maria' over and over again in his sleep which was a nuisance when everyone else was trying to fall asleep. The amputee wasn't supposed to live long, so they bore it with good humour. The doctors expected him to die any day now. His pallid face, sunken eyes and dry lips confirmed their suspicions and they were eager for an empty bed. Still he had friends that came to visit him every day. That was more than he could say for himself.  He was stuck with Rilke. 

'She's going to visit me soon.' Werner told Horst excitedly, 'Then you can meet her too. I'd love you to meet her. She works in a factory in Leipzig that's why she can only come once every other week.'

Horst nodded. His nightmares had started getting worse as his body was starting to heal itself. Thankfully Rilke hadn't said anything about them although he did often wake up from some of his dreadful ones to find that Werner was awake even though he pretended he wasn't. Horst was glad of his deception. He would continue to be glad of his deception. That was why he agreed to meet his fiancée even though he did not want to get too close to Rilke. He had lost too many of his friends in this war. He did not care to make any more. He wanted to mourn the ones he had lost.


	5. Chapter 5

Werner waited impatiently for Liesel but she came the day after the one she was supposed to come. His flowers were starting to wilt in the April sun. He had cleaned his suit and polished his boots till they shone.

'One of my NCO's Rimmel made me polish his boots till they shone one day. I polished them all day for almost 15 hours till those filthy boots shone as new. He couldn't find a fault with them and then the bastard had to announce a sudden inspection of the quarters. Of course my quarters were untidy because I'd spent the day polishing his boots and he didn't give me time to clear everything. He gave me a whole week of guard duty where I had to stand outside all night in attention holding a heavy rifle and saluting to the shadows.' He shared as he polished the boots.

'Aschloff made me carry the heavy parachute kit around in the blazing sun across the entire field twenty times because I had been a second too slow in opening it during the drills.' Horst found himself sharing. 'Even then he would have made me carry it all day had the other commanding officer not intervened and told him to stop. I've been meaning to get back at him ever since.'

'I tried,' Werner said with a wicked gleam in his eyes, 'Once he made me sit there at the table till I had finished every body's dinner because I was a minute late to show up to the mess. I couldn't do it of course, not with the whole group's eyes on me as well.  So he made me run around all night in the freezing cold outside till I nearly froze to death. Once we did several push-ups all day because Rimmel could not find anything to criticise. By nightfall we were so exhausted that we were slacking so he would make us do those again. Bertie mentioned that we had gotten so good at basic training that had the war consisted entirely of doing push ups at the enemy we would have won by now. 

Horst smiled as Werner lazily stretched and continued.

'So we let slip that our company leader, Hauptmann Schuster was thinking of promoting him. All week that he was visiting our barracks the corporal kept sucking up to him and dropping subtle hints and showing how good he was to us. Hauptmann Schuster could not understand why the corporal was behaving so strangely and he got a good dressing down from the Hauptmann before he left for everything we deliberately did sloppily that week.' ~~~~

Horst laughed but quickly stopped. Every one of the men had turned round to see a very pretty young woman in overalls walk into the ward hesitatingly. She looked embarrassed at the interest shown to her and made a beeline for Werner's bed. Werner stood up to kiss her and got the other soldiers jealous looks which he enjoyed.  Horst let them talk together. He thought of Anna, Mama, Gretel, Franz and Bruno and his eyes filled with tears. He had a sudden aching desire for home and then realised that he didn't know what that was. It had been years since he'd left to join up. His home was his barracks and his family was Hans, Fritz and Heinrich. All dead. All gone. He swallowed his tears and lay in bed and closed his eyes. Sometimes the nightmares were welcome, at least he wasn't alone then.


	6. Chapter 6

Werner left him alone during the weekend and he preferred that. Two more soldiers had passed away in two days in their ward alone. The Hospital Church had a mass for all the fallen soldiers on Sunday and Horst could see a handful of people coming out of it as he lay in his bed. He remembered one of his earliest memories being of Mama dressing up to go to Church with Gretel holding her hand while he babysat Bruno and Franz at home and then having a lunch of pot roast as a family with Papa. Gretel did not like meat very much so she had pasta and vegetables which she attempted to eat messily with her fingers. That was his only memory of the family all together and smiling. He connected Church with that one memory which was now obsolete and painful and needed to be forgotten as soon as possible.   

Werner seemed distracted as far as Mohn could make out. The doctor had come and told him that his facial tissues were almost healed and he could go home in a couple of days. Mohn thought it was good news. He could go back to the front soon. Werner did not take the news well. He walked around the ward distractedly getting in the nurses' way. After getting a few admonishes from them he lay in his bed listless and silent.

The doctor had examined Horst as well. He shook his head when Horst asked if he would be fit soon for active duty. He could stand on his own with some assistance and he was eating and drinking properly now. He felt that he could go to the front lines in a matter of weeks. The doctor shook his head and evasively said, 'Give it more time.'

So he didn't really understand why Werner wasn't more excited about going home. For one thing he would get to see Liesel every day. Horst had seen them together, he seemed to be more in love with her than she was with him but that was perhaps because he was away at the front for so long and when you live within a hair's breadth of death everyday for days on end, you feel things more strongly.

'Is all your day to be spent moping around after Liesel?' Horst asked him as he started walking around again after dinner.

"It's not Liesel.'

'Then what?'

'You wouldn't understand?'

'And why would I not understand?'

'Because you're a soldier Horst.' Werner said bitterly. 'I don't want to go back to the front line.'

'That is cowardly, defeatist talk.'

'I did say, did I not, that you would not understand. I did not sign up for the war. I was a college student at an agricultural college in Leipzig. I would read and write poetry sometimes. I was going to help my father run his farm after I graduated. But I got called up for the army and all plans had to be abandoned. All the propaganda that the Nazis and Hitler spouted, they painted war as some kind of heroic adventure. I suppose my father's generation should have known better. They fought in the first world war but they still let us, us young men join up. We had our whole lives before us. I've buried my friends, Major. Young boys who had not even had a chance to live, they were sent out to die like cattle to slaughter.'

'That is treason, that is defeatist talk. You should not talk like that.'

I have nightmares from the war too Major. But mine are different. I'm afraid of going back. I dream that I would be sent back and I don't want to go back to a life of trenches, facing the enemy fire, never knowing when you might go next, watching your friends die, watching and waiting.'

'It's not easy. But the country is at war and our duty...'

'Duty?' Werner laughed, 'I've done my duty honestly, Major. I've served in the trenches, I fought with the best of them. I just can't go back there anymore.' He sobbed.

Horst awkwardly hung around Rilke's bed wondering what to say to him to make him feel better. He rather wished that Werner hadn't spoken. It was better that he was brooding and silent rather than crying helplessly like a child. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Werner was just a child himself, a boy of nineteen. War does make old men of the young, Horst sighed. He himself felt and looked older than he was. But Werner was just a young kid. He needed time to get over the shocks he had faced in battles. Sometimes Horst felt that if it weren't for duty, he might like to live a quiet life but then, he reasoned he would probably go mad. He didn't feel normal till the guns were firing in the distance and bombs were dropping overhead and soldiers were marching. Sometimes the soldiers in their ward would behave rowdily and make a lot of noise and upset the nurses. But Mohn knew that they were doing it because they missed the noise at the front. It was the dreadful quiet that got to you. It had got to Werner. 


	7. Chapter 7

Werner woke up to find that Horst was standing near his bed with a cup of coffee.

'It's strong German ersatz coffee.' He told Werner.

'What's it made from?' Werner asked getting up, taking the coffee and crinkling his nose at the smell.

'Could be anything from turnips to wood carvings. I didn't ask because then I would never have been able to keep it in. I don't want that nurse, whatever her name is, to find me near puke again. We know how good my record is.'

'I think her name is Hilda.' Werner said sipping his coffee gingerly, 'I see you're walking about today.'

Horst looked at the wooden crutches that he was balancing himself on, 'these are very useful. I couldn't stay in bed forever you know.'

'Does it still hurt?'

'Oh yes, the stomach shoots up in unbearable pain from time to time and I can't eat so many things I used to enjoy.'

'Thank you for the ersatz coffee though.' Werner smiled at him.

'I went to see the doctor again today. He had performed 17 operations since yesterday morning and was tired, exhausted and irritated so he finally told me the truth.'

Werner looked closely at Horst's face, And you will never be fit for active duty again?'

Horst shook his head, there was a wistful, sad look in his eyes, 'Never. The wound is too deep. At most the best I can hope for is an administrative job somewhere sitting behind a desk.'

'The price we pay for their war.' Werner said bitterly, 'I wouldn't mind swapping places with you. Sorry I didn't mean to blurt that out.'

'That's alright, I understand. I don't agree with what you said last night you know. As a soldier duty always comes first.'

'I didn't expect you to. You were right, it is treason to talk like that. The penalty for hating the war is death by a firing squad.' Werner laughed, 'I'm sorry but I don't know why I find that particularly amusing.'

Horst smiled a thin, wry smile.

'Well, we can't always get what we want it seems, including coffee.' Werner said getting up and pouring the rest of the coffee into a flowerpot on the windowsill, 'Oh how I wish Bertie was here. He'd scrounge out real food from thin air.'

Werner absentmindedly stared at his face in the windowpane and sighed.

Horst looked out of the window but he knew what Werner was thinking. There was a long silence but each was grateful that it was not broken.


	8. Chapter 8

'You shouldn't smoke Rilke, it's bad for health.' The nurse told him as he came from the garden outside with the soldier who had sniggered at Horst. They were laughing about something or the other.

Rilke said, 'I'll risk it. Our life expectancy is three months anyway.' He smiled as the nurse went off annoyed to attend to another patient who was screaming in pain.

'What's her problem anyway?' his friend asked.

'She doesn't like me.'

'Yeah, I'm not surprised. I only wonder how Liesel likes you.'

They came to Horst's bedside, he was trying to do some sit-ups.

'Horst do you really have to do these right now? I brought a friend. This is Christoff Meyer.'

Horst's mouth tightened into a line, 'We've met.'

'Really?' the young soldier raised an eyebrow.

'Yes, you made fun of me when I first came here.'

'I'm sorry, I hope you'll forgive me.' Christoff smiled.

Horst ignored Christoff's outstretched hand and started doing sit-ups again.

'Play nice you two. I'm off to see the orderly or a doctor about a thing.' Werner rushed off.

'Bring me a beer.' Christoff shouted after him.

'How did you get injured?' Christoff asked Horst as Werner disappeared.

'Stomach wound, Stalingrad.'

'Must be painful.'

"Yes it is.'

'Sorry,' Christoff stood awkwardly in silence and then went to play cards with another soldier.   

Horst continued to do sit-ups.

Werner came back looking upset.

'Are you alright?' Horst asked.

'No I'm not alright, Horst and don't ask me why. They're throwing me out of the hospital by this Friday. They say they need the beds. I even offered to pay more, I think the orderly would have taken it. German marks are in short supply, you know. But the doctor came just at that moment and blew the whole plan to pieces. Krause, that's the orderly, did agree to let me stay longer two weeks ago. He even put on new bandages and told the doctor that the wound hadn't healed. But now he's just being annoying and I've already paid him a hundred marks.  Don't smile Horst, I'm in earnest. Where's Christoff run off to?'

Horst shrugged.

'At least you've got a visitor.' He said.

'Liesel.' Werner exclaimed, 'She wasn't supposed to come till Wednesday, that's in two days. What's she doing here?'

'I don't know but, I wouldn't complain if I were you.' Horst said.

'I'm not.' He got up and went to meet her.

Horst heard raised voices and the sounds of an argument coming through even though Werner and Liesel were sitting at the end of the ward.  

Liesel rushed off sooner than she was supposed to. Her bright blue eyes were moist with tears. Werner himself looked shaken.

'More bad news?' Horst asked.

'The price we pay for the war, as I said Horst. The price we pay. She said that given the circumstances it would be better if we broke up our engagement and see how we feel about each other after the war.' Werner looked out of the window and bit his tongue to stop crying, 'Everyone said we were too young anyway. She'd probably be better off with a less scarred specimen of the human race.' He tried to laugh.

'Is that why she broke it off?'

'I don't know, maybe. She wouldn't say. I don't care. She said I have changed a lot from the man she fell in love with, that I'm bitter and angry all the time. Well wouldn't you be if you were at the front for days, fighting a war that you no longer believed in? She does not love me as much as she thought anymore and that it would be better to break up right now than to live with regrets and guilt.'  Werner threw himself on the bed and pretended to read a novel. But when everyone had gone to bed, Horst heard him sobbing through his pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

The news of Werner's break up from Liesel had spread quickly among the soldiers by the end of the next day. It turned out that you couldn't keep any secrets in this place. Nothing was sacred or off limits from discussion including one's struggles with bowel movements as Horst had found when he overheard some soldiers discussing it in detail.

'Do you think she'll go for me?' one of the soldiers with an amputated arm asked.

'Back off, Heisenburg.' Christoff said.

'She might,' Werner considered, 'If you were less of a jerk than you are. Unfortunately losing an arm has not improved that.'

'I can take you anywhere, even with half an arm, kid.'

'Whoa, break it up, guys.' Christoff said, 'I'm trying to score points with Hilda. I swear she positively smiled at me today.'

There was laughter from the group which eased the tension and everyone went back to what they were doing before.   

Horst looked towards them. For someone who did not want any friends, he felt jealous that Christoff was fast gaining Werner's affections. He would have said something to those men had Christoff not intervened.

'What are you thinking Major?' Werner came to lay down on his bed which was next to Horst's.

Horst watched Christoff walk past nurse Hilda and turn to ask her something.

'I don't like him. You shouldn't spend too much time with him.'

'Feeling jealous are we?' Werner laughed, 'don't worry Major, he's only an Oberlieutenant and his talents lie in other directions as you have seen. Women and beer. I suppose you must have had some friends like him at one point.'

'At one point?'

'Nobody visits you, I just assumed.'

'That they were dead? Yes. At least, I know Fritz and Heinrich are dead. Hans might be dead too, I never received a word about it. I have two brothers in the Wehrmacht too, one is in the Luftwaffe and the other is in the Heer somewhere in North Africa, Tunisia probably. What about your friends?'

'Erich is in hospital in Hamburg. Arno is still at the front, I think. Paul is dead and Bertie, I mean Albert is dead too. Though knowing Bertie one always thinks that he might be playing a trick and just hiding only to reappear suddenly one day with pockets full of food and other stuff.' He chuckled to himself before looking at Horst, 'You've received so many medals already, I bet your family is proud of you. I bet it's only a matter of time before they give you another one for Stalingrad.' Werner said wistfully.

'Well I did lose my stomach over it. So it would be nice,' Horst smiled then added, 'I haven't seen my family in years. I don't know what they think.'

'Yes I'm sure they're proud.'

Werner drifted into his own thoughts.

'What are you thinking?'

He didn't reply he seemed to be somewhere far away from it all. Horst left him there and took out the crutches and went to the bathroom. He felt nauseous and vomited his dinner. He had been careful of what he was eating but it seemed that his stomach was still very sensitive. A spasm of pain overtook him and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming. By the time he came out he was sweating and shaking all over. He calmed himself down and limped back to his bed. The bedside light fell on Werner's face and Horst saw for a brief second before he switched it off that Werner was still lost in his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

Thursday was the day that they got letters from home. Werner had got one. Horst did not expect any so was surprised to find an envelope addressed to him.

'What does it say?' Werner asked.

Horst opened it up carefully while Werner grew impatient.

'It's from the top.'

'From...God?'

Horst laughed, 'No from the Higher command.'

'Oh is it to congratulate you on your bravery? About time too. Is it your Commanding officer?'

'Higher up.'

'His commanding officer? Oh come on Horst, spit it out, I won't be able to guess it. You know I haven’t got the patience for games like these. It's why I suck at chess.'

'I know.' Horst grinned. He had tried to teach Werner the basics of chess so they could have a game to pass the time. But Werner was hopeless at it. He understood what the pieces did, he just became bored after a while and left it.

'Well?'

'From the very top. From the Fuhrer himself.'

'Really?' That is, I must say...' Werner was speechless for once. 'That is great news,' he finally said, 'Well done, Horst.'

He pumped Horst's arm and made great fuss of him. By the afternoon the whole hospital had heard that Hitler had written to congratulate Horst Mohn on his bravery at Stalingrad and was planning to visit him in hospital next week.

'It's a pity I won't be able to see your face when he's here.' Werner said laughing. 'You're star struck already.'

Horst blushed, 'It's nice to be acknowledge for bravery.'

'And you'll get another iron cross too. Our very own Hero, Major Horst Mohn.'

'Aren't you going to open your letter?'

'Oh it's probably just a letter from Erich. He writes religiously to everyone of us. He misses us. We just have that effect on people.' He smiled as he opened the letter.

He became solemn as he read its contents.

'What is it?'

'The hospital that Erich was in, has been bombed. No one's thought to have survived. The bombing raids on Hamburg have intensified.' His face was pale and he was shaking.

Horst half hobbled and half limped and brought him a beer from the canteen.

'Here drink this.'

'Thanks.'

Mohn took his crutches and began walking across the ward becoming positively angry with each step.

'And you still don't like the war. How can this be? You see what the enemy is like, they won't even leave the hospitals. They would bomb us all to the ground.'

'Well, we did bomb their cities too,' Werner pointed out.

Horst ignored his comment.

'It's kill or be killed, Werner. We have to show the enemy that we are strong, that we are not afraid. That we are made of sterner stuff. That we fight back. We are better than them. German soldiers are superior to any enemy.'

'You're angry, Major. You've seen too much of the war. It can't have been easy, you are traumatised still.' 

'And you are a coward.' Mohn shouted. Half the soldiers and nurses in their ward turned to look at him and to know what all the fuss was about.

Werner's face was flushed red with embarrassment and he walked out to the garden outside without saying another word.

Almost as soon as he'd uttered that sentence he'd wished he could take it back. He didn't mean to say that. He was angry, he wasn't thinking straight.

'Werner, Werner,' Horst called out. Suddenly his letter, his great achievement didn't seem so heroic after all.

It was night and Werner still hadn't returned. Horst was getting worried. He paced up and down the ward and the corridor, his crutches making a dull thud, thud noise.

Around midnight he heard the doctors whispering in the corridor.

Have you found him, Is Werner back, is he alright? Horst's face was pale and he was sick with fright.

'Yes, we found him.' One of the doctors nodded. He took Horst to a quiet corridor. Your friend got hold of some painkillers from the pharmacy. He swallowed them all. Bloody stupid of him if you ask me, there are men here who need those supplies and with bombing increasing every day, it is hard to get medicines flown in from Berlin. Poor fellow was trying to commit suicide. Thankfully one of the nurses found him in time. He's in the other ward; Ward B, down the corridor.

'Is he going to be alright?'

'Yes he's going to be fine by tomorrow. We flushed the pills out of his stomach before they could do any lasting damage. He just needs plenty of water and rest. He'll be fine by tomorrow.'

'Can I see him?'

'Not tonight. He's resting. Come see him tomorrow if you want.' The doctor hurried away. They were bringing another patient to the Operating Room.

Horst went back to the ward but he sat on his bed all night thinking. He blamed himself. If anything had happened to Werner, he would never have forgiven himself. The nurse found him in the morning, with an unkempt appearance, sitting there, deep in thought. He didn't even look up when she called his name.


	11. Chapter 11

Horst stood outside the door of Ward B, hesitatingly. He couldn't find the courage to go in. He thought that was ironic considering only yesterday he had received news that he'd be receiving a Knight's cross with Oak leaves for his bravery. He swallowed a lump in his throat and hobbled along to the end of the ward where Werner lay, still and silent.

'Werner, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did yesterday. I am so sorry.' Horst said after a minute's silence.

He turned to look at Horst, 'I know. Everything in my life has come crashing down really. When you said those words, I felt that you were ashamed of me and you should be too, I am ashamed of me too. It's easy for you Horst, to be brave, it's not the same with everyone. '

Horst shook his head and smiled a sad smile. 'You think it is easy? I would give anything to be back home but I joined up very young, I had a terribly strict instructor too. He would breathe down your throat, count to 10 loudly and you were expected to unpack your kit in that time. Whoever did not, would have to unpack and pack twenty times besides running around the field all day. Once we replaced our kits with our night wear and unpacked them all in under 10 seconds. Do you know what he said? We're going to go jump out of the plane in twenty minutes, gather you kits and walk.'

Werner laughed.

'See, I can make jokes too.'

'I never doubted that.'

'When are you leaving?'

'Tomorrow morning at 0600.'

'Will you be able to see your parents?'

'Not this time, I have to report at our barracks in Hamburg by the evening. I was supposed to leave today and spend the night at my parents' house.'

'I'll come see you in the morning too, shall I?'

Werner shook his head, 'I'd rather you didn't Horst.'

 'Why?'

'I just... Don't make it any harder for me than it is. Just please...'

A tear dripped from Werner's eye, ran down his ear and landed in his pillow. 'I don't want to die Horst.'

'You won't die Werner, you'll come back home safe and you'll live to a ripe old age and tell all your wartime stories to your grandchildren someday.'

Werner shook his head and a few more tears rolled down his cheeks as he mouthed those words 'I don't want to die' again without uttering a sound and Horst nodded in return as if to say 'I know'.

'Werner.' Horst's eyes were filled with tears and he was biting his lips to control his voice which was shaking, 'I'm going to miss you.'

'Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say those words?'

Horst laughed and quietly touched his lips to Werner's forehead.

'You take care of yourself Major.'

'And you, Werner.'


	12. Epilogue

The morning after, around 1100.

'You should have let him stay.'

I have my duty as a doctor too Major. I could not allow him to stay when we need these beds for the soldiers with far worse injuries than his. Especially with some of the hospitals coming under heavy allied bombing as well. We have no room as it is. Yet still the soldiers keep coming. Just now I saw a soldier who was bleeding heavily from an open gunshot wound to his chest. He would have died had I not operated on him straight away. Would you rather we tell these men to go away because we don't have any room for them?'

'What about sending him to a mental asylum? Clearly he's not in a fit state to fight.'

'If we had sent him off to a mental asylum we'd have to justify to higher ups why we sent a perfectly healthy and fit soldier who is not exhibiting symptoms of any known  mental disorder except the fact that he does not like the war and would rather not fight. The German army needs soldiers right now. He would have been examined by psychiatrists I assure you and would not have been able to fake it. Do you know what they'd have done? Shot him for cowardice. At least at the front he might survive the war.'

'As if there's a chance of that. Have you seen him? His nerves are shot.'

'As I said, he _might_.' The doctor said with emphasis, 'Though God knows it is a senseless way to kill a young man by sending him to the front when his heart's not in it. It's a pity there are no more heroes left to fight in the war. Goodnight Major.'

                                                                                                                                  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The experiences related in this story of fighting in the war and basic training are either a work of my imagination or inspired by war based novels I've read or both, so there are bound to be inaccuracies.


End file.
